A War of Wills
by Meegan
Summary: Post AFFC  The south is rising, the east is marching, the north is falling and the west is burning. Will Westeros survive its times as shadows grow and enemies awaken?   M-Rating,it is ASOIAF  4th Chapter up
1. Summary  Author's Note

**Summary**

(Post AFFC) The south is rising, the east is marching, the north is falling and the west is burning. Will Westeros survive its times as shadows grow and enemies awaken?

Most of the already established PoV's will be resumed and others added. Futhermore the Starks have been aged up by about 1 -2 years simply because character-development wise that really is where they are, especially in reference to Bran and Arya. You can ignore that comment if you wish but it may make certain scenes slightly more believable.

**Author's Note:**

I haven't read ADWD however I have picked up on certain elements and might continue certain aspects, however writing post AFFC leaves me with a slight more room for plot-direction and in some degrees simplifies things :D on the other hand it leaves me with a restricted amount of material for the past and personality of certain characters so a slight amount of OoC may occur, I will do my best to avoid it but well you are forewarned….

Another noteworthy point is that I am experimenting in writing styles, yet I am deliberately trying to adapt the style of narration based on the character and events. I'm trying to manipulate the register, diction and nature of tone as a method of implicit characterisation. GRRM does do the same in varying degrees in respect of the stream of consciousness he occasionally uses. On that note I know GRRM doesn't really approve of FF but as I am concerned it is meant as homage to his brilliancy and I really will try not to missuse his characters.

Last but not least, I really really could use with the support of reviews, I do have this planned as a long-term FF, I currently have 40 chapters scheduled as such but that's only a fraction of the entire plot so I really really would love just even a word or two to give me sustenance :D I will try my utmost to post one chapter every week, but as I'm in my final year trying to get into Uni I might not always be able to stick to it, however I promise to try!

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and I am in no way profiting from this FF. They all belong to George R.R. Martin, only the plot post- A Feast For Crows is mine. Some scenes from the HBO Series A Game Of Thrones may be referenced to, these also do not belong to me. (Trust me I wish they did ;D )**


	2. 1 Chapter: Beth The Beggar

**Hey so I hope you guys like this, I will try my upmost to upload a chapter every week. I will take down the author's note soon but not quite yet, oh I also have to recommend "The North Remembers" by SilverRavenStar - the best ASOIAF FF that I have read to date and an absolutely brilliant writer in my opinion**

**So without futher ado...**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and I am in no way profiting from this FF. They all belong to George R.R. Martin, only the plot post- A Feast For Crows is mine. Some scenes from the HBO Series A Game Of Thrones may be referenced to, these also do not belong to me. (Trust me I wish they did ;D )**

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><p><strong>Part I : A Wake For Wolves<strong>

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><p><strong>1. Chapter: Beth The Beggar<strong>

_That night she dreamed she was a wolf again, but it was different from the other dreams. In this dream she had no pack. She prowled alone, bounding over rooftops and padding silently beside the banks of a canal, stalking through the fog._

_When she woke the next morning, she was blind._

She blinked and blinked again. The darkness would not shake. Panic started to rise in her chest, her heart fluttering, then pounding, her blood rushed to her head, she couldn't breathe. What was happening? _I must master myself. Fear cuts deeper than swords._ Breathing deeply she collected herself and closed her eyes. Waking to darkness was more unsettling than pretending to sleep walk. If all was a dream, she could accept it, she'd had darker dreams in the nights of late.

Exhaling she felt the sun upon her skin, the pounding in her head quieted until it faded. The mattress was still beneath her and as she placed her feet upon the ground it felt the same. If everything was the same, she musn't have been moved. A cat could see in the dark, hadn't she just been Cat of the canals and the ghost of Harrenhal – _ghosts live in the dark_, laughter bubbled from her lips unbidden, the sound seemed foreign to her ears, surely she did not sound so. Then again, when was it last that she had laughed? Even so a note sounded false and slowly a thought formed itself, still unknown to her conscious mind. _Voices lie and reveal the secret truth too._

Anger grew in her chest- _I was the ghost of Harrenhal, Nan, Weasel, Cat of the Canals, darkness comes each night for all. Stupid! It's just darkness! Fear cuts deeper than swords. _Still a shiver ran through her heart, whispering a fear she did not want to hear.

_The waif did this, her and the kindly old man with their warm milk. Stupid! Of course he wouldn't react well, you're meant to be no one. _She had expected some punishment but not this. Had doing what she had done been so wrong? Had he not deserved the gift? Had he not deserted all he had sworn? Had he not professed his own life forfeit if he deserted? He took the black, he took a wench, he knew his fate.

It was her duty, was it not? To provide the gift? He who pronounces the sentence should wield the sword, those were her father's words, but they were her life it would seem. Needle was her blade, the past her law. She hungered still for more than the old waif could ever offer and in the surrounding darkness it seemed to call to her more and more. Yet it taunted, how can you find them when you can't see? Who are you? A blind girl. That's all.

No she wouldn't stay like this, she couldn't. She stood up from her small bed, stumbling along, stubbing her toes on uneven surfaces she'd never realized were there before. The cold of the stone seemed to seep through and slowly numb the throbbing pain, which was beginning to build. After a while she felt nothing but a hot sticky substance beneath her feet, she knew she hadn't even gone far, slowly the thought crept upon her, she didn't even know if she was going the right way.

_As calm as water, as smooth as silk_ pausing to recollect those words spoken to her seemingly an age ago, then when she was someone. Arya, Arya of House Stark. She had been someone. She was someone. Someone she couldn't afford to be. _Because the sweet queen wants Arya dead_ a mirthless snort escaped her, strange how darkness invited thoughts to make their homes in the shadows of her mind. _Arya is dead, as dead as Cersei will be. _

Faint chanting and murmuring seemed to be quietly playing in the distant background. It might not be the kitchen, but she would find an acolyte at the very least in the temple caverns, where all the men came praying. The muskiness on the air seemed to hang heavier than usual and the damp seemed more chilling. Dimly crying rang in her ears, perhaps a woman seeking the favour for a false husband or a maiden ruined on false promise. Not uncommon in Braavos.

Slowly she made her made way, placing each foot firmly before the last, her hands gliding against the dank cold wall. With shallow breathes and an anxious mind, she tried to rule her face as she entered the room. She heard but merely the wisp of cloth against the ground a second before she heard his voice so close, that he must be right before her.

"Alas you have come. Who are you today?" The response was natural, without thought, the reply coming ever easier through practice, "No one" , she thought she heard a sigh but perchance it was her own imaginings. "You lie still child. The House of Black and White will only have true hearts in its inner chambers. Child what it is worse? A lie or a lie believed to be truth?"

Itching to bite her lower lip she remained motionless, this question was new. Slowly she replied, weighing her word cautiously, bearing her previous rebuke, for saying something as fact when she could not know it to be so, in mind, "Lies are lies. They are what they are. Belief is not knowledge. A man can believe something to be true, but if he does not know, it must be seen as a lie."

The man didn't answer, being unable to read his face, she realized how much she had relied on her eyes, _Listen to everything_ . A seemingly long pause ensued, but by and by she found her attention drifting to the sounds around again, they seemed louder than usual. "You are learning bit by bit. But my question remains unanswered. Lies can harm, even kill. False truth will always kill. Remember that. Go tend your duties."

A flutter of annoyance danced in the back of her mind, he had mentioned nothing of her blindness. How was she to cut the vegetables unseeing? It was foolish! "But-" "But how? You have hands, you have feet, you have a nose and you have ears. What else do you need? The Faceless God needs no eyes, no ears, no nose and still he seeks us all. Do your tasks thoughtless child, Arya Proudmind I name you. If you seek earnestly to serve, then it is not your place to question. We are all his tools and must all fulfill his will. Tools have no minds. Tools are things, not people. Tools are used. Tools form his will into being. Not only the anvil, hammer and steel make a sword, you will learn. You will serve if you still seek to stay"

Whilst his voice remained calm and measured his wording seemed to reveal a sense of displeasure, but she was too angry to truly feel guilt or even worry about it. She was hurt by his naming and it was wound she was unused to. However his speech had its desired effect, rallied by his assertion of her character she sought to prove him wrong. Yes she still wanted to serve the Faceless God, but by the old Gods not for the reasons he wanted. Not only that, she would excel at every task he set, she would not need her eyes _I will not fail._

The day seemed to past in a muddle of confusion, irritation and pain. She couldn't remember the last time she hurt quite so. Ridden with cuts and sores beneath her feet and on her fingers, she went to bed that night without a word of encouragement from the waif, only a scolding for taking too long, when she had gotten lost fetching some ingredient from a cupboard. All day had been all night and in the darkness she felt more alone than ever. _At least when __**he**__ left I had Needle, _she shook her head dispelling those thoughts aside, they were Arya's. It didn't matter anyhow she was alone now, again, everyone always left. _They leave or die. Valar morghulis – just like me._ Sleep finally claimed her and no dreams gave her refuge that night. When she awoke a numbness had settled over her, her body was stiff, her feet bleeding still, but she didn't feel a thing.

The darkness still hadn't lifted on her third day in the temple, by then she had been able navigate through the temple with relative ease, yet cutting vegetables still prove itself painful. Despite her caution when wielding the blade it would occasionally slip. When the waif asked her to name the potions she smelt, when she was helping her, it would seem as though they smelt stronger than before and she had even been able to name a few more successfully. Apart from the occasional question the waif remained oddly quiet throughout their dealings. It unsettled her. It would seem something had changed and she was oblivious to what it could be – unless her judgment had cost her more than she had thought.

However it was the third day and time to leave. "You must go from us again. However you will not return to Brusco, your knowledge of our tongue has grown but your accent is still too strong. No there are other things for you to do. All is paid in blood and iron here, yet iron is too costly for food and other necessities. How would a girl earn money for the House of Black and White?" She took a moment to think of the bustling port and the people there. "I could take messages" "No you do not know truth from lie; this is not a job a girl can do." Again she pondered, how could she do anything when she couldn't see? "I could make things with my hands- little statues of wood, vases of clay?" "A better idea, but this is Braavos. We have many people who make things. Things that are very expensive come here every day and there are already people who make cheap goods that look expensive, but it is an idea. But think child, I am sure you can think of something better for a small little blind girl, an orphan too."

A forbidden thought came to her mind, more of a forbidden memory as such. It was snowing in Winterfell, she had stolen into the kitchen hoping to pry some bread from the baker's hands, how her mother had reacted at seeing her pleading with the cook, then her father had rebuked her too, in front of Sansa and the scullery maids. A strange sense of dread settled in her stomach, she was slowly turning away from everything she ever knew and the old man knew it too. _It's a test_ even still, uttering those words felt harder than eating the worm from his eye would have been. "I could beg."

"That would be a good job for a girl to do, it would be more dangerous than when you were working with Brusco, but that is how things are. I do not know if this is something you can do, but you will go forth and return after 30 days and 30 nights. Who will you be when you leave?"

"I cannot be Cat nor Salty, I am a blind beggar girl, an orphan, Beth the beggar I will be."

"Very well, but where does she come from? King's Landing was Cat's home, Salty came from the Saltpans, but what is Beth's story, why did she come to Braavos and when, from where?"

"From White Harbor, when she was only six", it was the only other harbor she knew, but she didn't need to lie so much, her Braavosi had improved, the old man had said so himself, "she can't remember what it was like, but it was cold. Her mother was a tavern wench, she didn't have a husband, but she used to like to talk to the sailors, they would tell Beth of all the different places they had been. One day her mother went to a sailor, he took her with him and they left Beth behind. One of the shiphands took pity on her, he was only ten but an orphan too, he thought maybe he could look after her. Beth hid in the storage hull of the ship he was on, but the captain found her, he threw her out on Braavos. For a few years she could see well, but an illness took her eyesight and she could no longer work in the kitchen for the family she had served. "

For a long time no response came, eventually the old man spoke with a gravity in his voice, for a reason she could not fathom, "Half lies are better than full lies, they are easier and less likely to be seen through, but don't forget I can see them. This is a good story and too close to truth for many children running through these streets, no one will care for another beggar child. Go girl and earn for the House of Black and White, return with knowledge and means for us to run our daily duties."

Stealing across the halls and corridors she quickly gathered all she needed, torn rags for clothes, an iron spearhead to defend herself and lastly and a piece of tattered cloth to double as a cloak and bedding. The thought occurred to take a dagger with her, but effectually it was useless _I couldn't stab anyone anyway_ instead she chose to bind her eyes and found a broom, snapping off the head she chose this to be her walking stick _and it's a weapon too_.

Eating before she finally departed she realized just how truly and fully alone she would be in her perpetual darkness. The alleyways seemed quieter than usual and a sense of heaviness hung in the air. These were the scenes of sin in a city as vibrant as this, even in the night these canals were alive and thriving with deeds best done in the obscurity of night. Deeds she herself had already committed, she too had added to the number of the dead in these watery graves.

This knowledge was not new to her, but only hearing and not seeing made her feel useless, as if she herself could fall victim to the debaucherous nature that haunted these streets. Carefully ushering along the sideways using her stick to avoid falling into the canals, she tried to recall a path to a nook under a bridge she had recently discovered, it would be empty, it was small even for a child, but she could become mouse.

So she became a mouse and Beth the beggar girl. Unable to return to the port, where she would be recognized, she sought to find niches to hide away in the dark of night, when one market became another. During the day she would allow herself to be jostled through the crowded guild streets, where there were merchants, smithies, tailors, taverns and on adjoining boulevards whorehouses and even the residencies of lower courtesans. Being shoved through the crowd she would sometimes pick pockets and even cut a few purse strings, her blindness wasn't feigned and most ignored her, however the lords and ladies were a different matter.

After a while she learned to hear even the most faintest of sounds, whilst her world now seemed to be a constant chaos of thuds and echoes, she managed to tune certain sounds out and filter through the jumble to hear the distinctive jingle of the coins in their purses. Whilst some ladies were carried in a litter she would stumble against their guards, cry and they would take pity on her and offer her money free-willing others however, especially the lords, even ones dressed unseemingly, due to the rough spun tunics she could feel beneath her fingers, would push her away and complain, often calling her things one wouldn't expect from people so supposedly refined.

Other times she would sit near a forge, trying to gain some warmth from the fires, to fight the fog and cold that was settling all around and slowly seeping into her bones. She had other corners where she would sit and beg, however she enjoyed listening to the bartering between the lords and weapon-masters, no you can't have a Viper on the handle with rubies and ivory, it unsettles the balance of the blade, - then the typically pompous reply of the future owners demanding it be made as specified as they are to pay the already extortionate price.

The constant blows falling upon the anvils seemed to steady her impatience, begging on a side-street day by day, was not her. It was not who she was or wanted to be but it was Beth and she was Beth now. The only people, who took note of her, were roof rats and other orphans, insisting she was stealing their clientele from them.

The roof rats were the only ones with whom she could speak, some of the elder ones helped provide her with some bread on days when she would have otherwise went without. On colder nights they would huddle together but not often, they were cautious to say the least. Rodrigo told her how, the roof rats weren't only professional pick pockets but more of a family and nest, hidden throughout the city. You were born into them and only seldom taken in as an outsider. Rodrigo was the only friend as such that Beth could speak of, coincidently their meeting was less than friendly. Beth had had quite a profitable day and he had decided to try and steal her earnings from her, she had greeted him with the spearhead pressed against his jugular when he had tried to overwhelm her.

She didn't trust him though, and the more she heard of her fellow men's unfaltering daily lying, the more she had to question just which reasons had truly led her to the path she was currently on, however she wasn't sure she really wanted an answer. Each night she took precautions to make sure she wasn't followed when she hid her profits under a stone of her first sleeping place under the bridge.

However on the last night, something was different. She couldn't hear any footsteps following her, yet the hairs on the back of her neck stood erect and a chill seemed to linger along her spine. Unnerved she hurried along her way, _stupid, there's no one there_ even as the thought passed through her mind she heard a drunken giggle behind her, from a deep rumbling voice. "Well, well, well, what's we got here then?" She felt a heavy hand land on her shoulder, grasping and pulling her backwards. A memory of the old man in the Peach broke to the forefront of her panic, quickly trying to whirl away, her walking staff fell to the ground. "Leave me be", escaped from her lips harsh and cold. "Oh sweet don't be that way, just wantin' to make sure you're safe" "I am, now let me go", she barked at him as his hand agilely but firmly clutched her shoulder again, trying to take a step back. However instead of escaping him her back hit against a wall, the air filling with his foul stench. Bile started to climb her throat and fear earnestly seized her. "You're not safe, no little girl should be walkin' alone through Braavos "

She tried to knee his groin but he had already pushed himself firmly against her, "Darlin', I'll keep you company all night, I'll keep you safe, how 'bout a bit of thanks?" Suddenly his mouth was her neck and his hands wandered roughly down the front of her robe, he was slobbering and stank to the seven hells. Tears started to well up, as she felt herself go numb and pure panic set in. His weight was pushing against her harshly, his tongue coarsely pulling at her skin, she automatically gripped to where Needle had always been, but was instead clasping at thin air, she screamed and felt his hand quickly clamp down on her mouth, she savagely bit him and drew blood. Suddenly she was a wolf in her mind and all she could see was red, whilst her body shivered in terror and bloodlust. With strength unbeknownst to her she tried to push his weight away from her, he was too heavy, his breath panting against her as his groin started to rub against her. In blind fury and cold panic she savagely started clawing at where his face should be, he shouted out in pain as she poked his eyes, releasing her momentarily and in that moment the spearhead she had forgotten was up her sleeve, slid into her palm. She clasped it tightly cutting her hand deeply.

"Fucking bitch!" With that he lunged at her fast but her hand flew out and slashed against his face, the blade dragging against his skin, his blood, warm and thick flowing down her arm, he tried to grab her arm. Flinging herself to the ground, in an attempt to escape his reach, she hit her head hard against the stone, despite the excruciating pain, she seized her walking staff, as her fingers grazed against the wood, whirling it around at where her attacker had stood. The wood made contact with his hard flesh, drawing an agonized groan, without thinking she stabbed him with the point of the wood, hearing the squelching of the blood and tissue tearing she lunged at him again and again and again, until she felt the tears falling down her faced thick and fast, and no longer heard his cries pain, or anything from him at all.

With that she slumped to the ground and crawled over to the canal edge and retched. She heaved and threw up until she thought her entire stomach was leaving her body, her throat burned and felt like it was on fire, but it wasn't enough it wouldn't stop. Tears still free falling; she began clawing at her neck, scrapping with her nails the trail of spit he had left upon her. She could she him lying there dead, but it felt like he was still on top of her, against her, grinding and she was tearing away at her skin but she could only feel the dirt. Scooping up water from the canal she tried to wash herself clean and only when she freezing and shivering from shock, her body still convulsing from the attack, did logical thought start to settle.

Forcing herself to breathe, _Fear cuts deeper than swords, as calm as water_, the shaking started to subside and the red in her mind recede. Standing up she banished everything from her mind, hastily scrambling for the spearhead and her staff, she fled. The labyrinth that was Braavos had never seemed so complex and threatening as she stole through the night, quickly retrieving the money and her bedding from the nook in which she had hidden it, she raced back to the temple of the Faceless God, stumbling, falling and cutting herself along the way. The faster she was the faster she'd be safe.

She entered the temple trembling from her ordeal, immediately someone was by her side, jumping out her skin she whirled around. "Beth you have returned, how have you fared and what have you learnt?" Ignoring the old man's question she demanded, "Teach me how to fight blind".

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><p><strong>Remember Reviews = Motivation :D At any rate I hope you've enjoyed it so far ^^<strong>


	3. 2 Chapter: Jaime

**Hi guys!**

**So finally here is chapter 2! Thanks to all who reviewed and commented! Chapter 3 will be up next Saturday. Promise. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and I am in no way profiting from this FF. They all belong to George R.R. Martin, only the plot post- A Feast For Crows is mine. Some scenes from the HBO Series A Game Of Thrones may be referenced to, these also do not belong to me. (Trust me I wish they did ;D )**

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: Jaime<strong>

„_Does my lord wish to answer?" the maester asked, after a long silence._

_ A snowflake landed on the letter. As it melted, the ink began to blur. Jaime rolled the parchment up again, as tight as one hand would allow, and handed it to Peck. "No," he said, "Put this in the fire."_

What the blazes in seven hells was Cersei thinking, writing like that? _Oh how sweet she can be when she wants_, he sneered at the fire as the parchment darkened, the flames licking at its edges. Something was desperately wrong, he knew that much, never had she written to him in such passion, or shown him such longing in a long, long time. He still remembered those final words they spoke in private, those ill terms in which they parted. How she scorned him _"Still a crippled lion may inspire fear."… "Your notions of manhood have changed somewhat, brother"_ the slap that tingled his cheek, how she did not even call him brother in the end. His brother's words still rang in his ears, _Did she ever truly love me?_ They were one person, they'd always said they were born as one and they would die as one, but something had changed. Just as how their kissing had once been innocent until it wasn't, they had once been one beating heart until they weren't.

He couldn't place when it had occurred, maybe when he pushed that young Stark off the tower window, he had done it for love, he told himself, but had he? He had thought it was her motherly instincts that had made her unhappy about his dealings, but maybe it was more. Maybe they had parted the moment he had taken the white, or was it when she had met Rhaegar. _The one thing she never talked of_.

"My Lord, what would you have me do?" Vyman stood motionless as the letter burned to a crisp. "You will speak nothing of this. You will not take the liberty to read any of my letters again; else I'll see to it that Ser Ilyn will assure me that you will not read again. I will also have no rumors mysteriously springing up in this camp, if you wish to keep your tongue. Should you be asked what the letter was about, it was news of a possible sighting of Ser Brynden Tully. Now I would you take leave."

A look sufficed to impress on Peck the same message, _still a threat will always carry a message better _"Peck unless you wish to be gelded, and deprive the lovely Pia of your company you will do the same."

He almost had to smile at the distinct shock on the boy's face; the threat of separating him from Cersei would have once had the same effect. Then again maybe a few more men needed to be gelded, for example the Hound, madness had taken hold in him. It was strange just how much clearer his thoughts had become since losing his hand, even before that though; on the other hand, nothing he had done seemed quite so clear cut anymore. Those nights in squalor, when he was held captive, maybe it had broken him. _The lion lost its claws._ _How dearest Cersei would approve of that assumption_. Still whenever he looked around the camp and saw just how many Tully's ran around, he was filled with something he hadn't felt in a long time. A sense of honourable pride, still he would rather have his head than die for pride. _But that was Joffrey's doing, acting on Cersei's mad example. _

Cersei and he would have been married and no-one would have batted an eyelid if they had been born Targaryens, the way Cersei was developing as Queen Regent she would have fit well into their family. _Fucking who she wanted when she wanted, burnt whoever she wanted starting with that little princess of Highgarden_ Jaime distrusted The Queen of Thorns and it would seem little Margaery had been well groomed, to take her place, not unlike Cersei herself had been. That incident had hurt his father deeply he knew, in truth the Lannisters had been ruling Westeros in all but name and in the execution of justice. Nonetheless the gold of Casterly Rock and the rage of the dragon would have been a powerful match, even a stable match.

At times he couldn't help but wonder just how much of a hand the Hand of Aerys had had in the organization of Robert's Rebellion or even in sowing the seeds of dissention. True some madness must have taken Rhaegar when he stole Lyanna Stark away, however he had at least briefly known the prince and if there had been anything of his father in him, that act was the first he had seen of it, Harrenhal had been foolish but nowhere near insanity. A piece of the puzzle didn't fit and from what he had learnt of his father's orchestrating of the Red Wedding, he couldn't help but wonder. _Funny how the son he never saw as his, was more like him than Cersei or I_ _ever were_

Tywin and Tyrion, Genna was right, both too clever for their own good and too alike in many ways too. _Women are the Lions bane_ "Ser", Peck's quiet question stirred him from his reverie "Would you like to talk or should I send for Ser Ilyn?" "No that won't be necessary for a while, saddle up Honor. I would like to ride out with the young Westerling girl. Go inform her mother for me."

Brynden Tully was dangerous, the Black Fish may be old, but he was slippery and loyal to the Young Wolf. Edmure might have a little of his mettle in the manner of his two-handled dealing, yet Edmure was here in his grasp and he would be made an example of. Jaime could imagine the whisperings of his guards though, his wife must have been something to not hear any of the Red Wedding.

If there was anyone who could roused the North once again under one banner, then it would be the Black Fish. Jaime did have some confidence though, there had been no sign of Sansa Stark; Jeyne Westerling, whilst wife to Robb Stark, had not quickend, and if anyone had a claim to the North it was Sansa Stark, Arya had been neutralized as a threat, but not Sansa. A girl as pretty as her was at the risk of being ruined traveling alone, but that gave rise to a question, which was much more unsettling, _who has the power to make her disappear from King's Landing and keep her hidden?_ Tyrion was the obvious answer, but Jaime himself had helped him escape and was fairly certain he hadn't played a role in her escape _He killed my son though, maybe he is a traitor, then why wouldn't he release Sansa Stark?_

By the time Honor was saddled and Jeyne finally brought to the stables the sun was high in the sky, _Winter is coming_ how ominous that sounded in the presence of the Young Wolf's widow. "M'lady I'm pleased you could bring yourself to heed my call."

He hadn't expected a reply but he also didn't expect the deadly cold glare, that he received either. "We are going to go out ridding, away from the eyes of your mother and I want you speak honestly. Will I need to take guards with me? Do you plan on fleeing from me at first chance?" "I will behave as Robb would want me to and that means acting like a Queen" Her voice sounded cold and lifeless but it broke slightly as she mentioned her former husband's name.

Deeming guards unnecessary, as he only planned on trotting around camp, making some inquiries into the issue of provisions and hoping to encounter some of Ser Dermot's men, they set out in a leisurely pace. "What did your mother say when she realized you had torn all your clothes?" , it seemed a harmless enough question, seeing how her otherwise fair-suiting dress was ripped, it was the only thing that seemed to come to his mind. Other than with his sister he hadn't spoken to many women, _I probably spoke more to_ _Brienne and Catelyn, than with Cersei these last few years_. Still silent tears streamed down her face, dripping off her chin.

"She had this dress made for me, especially to meet you alone. She's taken all my other dresses, she does not think my mourning as fitting of a Westerling." "And why would your mother have a dress made, when she didn't know you would be meeting me alone." "She would have arranged it, she cares not a thought for me, just for the gold of Casterly Rock and the pride of her house." "Her house, you are a Westerling too" She turned and stared him in the eyes, her stare harsher than steel, "I am a Stark, in name. Queen of the North, even without a crown, I will not bow to you. Robb would sooner have me dead."

"Mayhap so however, I do believe he would prefer you alive if only to spite the Frey's and myself. Besides, you're worth something now, a rebel's wife; that at least makes you interesting. Your mother is a little manipulative bitch isn't she, a Lannister-marriage wouldn't be too foolish in many ways, except from the obvious problem lions don't lay with wolves." "No they lay with lionesses instead. Their own kin, anyone else would be too beneath them. You fancy yourself Rhaegar born again don't you?" The comment felt like a kick in the gut, it seemed worse than when they would call him Kingslayer, simply because she spoke it as undeniable truth, no implication or foreplay. Just full of scorn. "If I did I would have stolen you away by now, no, I'm not Rhaegar. He was too good a man for me to be compared to. I killed his father remember?" Looking her in the eye as he spoke, he could see her calculating, her mind whirling as if trying to piece something together. "It doesn't mean I don't wish to be him at times. Being in love with your sister, being forced to take the white or a loveless bride, being always a failure in your father's eyes, it's not easy. I would love to do as I please and shit on everyone else's opinion, the Targaryen's were an incestuous brood for hundreds of years and polygamous too, no one cared though. So why do we have to play by other rules? No little wolf queen. I did not bring you here to talk on my morality, or do I have to remind you of the reasoning of your marriage? Robb claimed your maidenhead and because you were too stupid to pretend you cost him his Kingdom and his life. You've not washed your hands of blood yet either, not if the Blackfish takes arms again. Now tell me where would he go?"

"How would I know? Do you think a man like him would confide in me?" "Jeyne you were, no are, his queen. You tell him what to do and he in turn advises you. Even if he didn't like you, it would have been his duty." "You know better than many, how little duty matters during war. Survival is everything" "Now that sounds like the Blackfish. Tell me if he did not speak of matters of state with you, did he at least talk to your husband?" "Of course, he was one of his most trusted advisors." "And tell me; were you not Robb's wife?" "Do you really need to ask?", her tone slowly grew irritated and bored. "Well what did you do all night, except trying to create a little princeling? Talk I assume, now are you really telling me you spoke nothing of your predicament? I might not be Tyrion but I'm no fool girl, remember that." Slowly the girl seemed to realize who she was dealing with and steadily began to blanch. "I do not think it is any of your business what I did with my husband." _Definitely not a girl worth losing your kingdom for_

"Are you really that stupid or do I have to remind you who I am and who you are? I am not your prisoner you are mine." "I am no one's prisoner, neither yours nor my mother's. If anyone is my gaoler it's my own heart and conscience. I know the Red Wedding is my foolish doing, but at least I had the purest of intentions, are yours in this bloody war? I loved him, I loved him with all my heart and he's gone. Gone. The only person I ever truly loved was taken by a pathetic old man, because of a wounded pride. My potential child gone, taken, murdered by my own mother. I have to live, but why? What do I have? What do I have? Nothing. So take my life if you must, I will not bend. I am the Queen in the North. I am a Stark. I am Robb's wife before all else." , with that the last of her energy seemed to drain from her and once again she was simply a heartbroken girl, sobbing in silent agony.

Jaime gently leaned in, he couldn't help but at least feel for her. She was right, her husband was taken from her in the cruelest of manners, even more so by northern reckoning. Pulling out a square of cloth he raised his golden hand to her chin and gently lifted her face, awkwardly drying her eyes. _Cersei would never let me do this_ "Robb was a good enemy to fight I'll give him that. I won't say he wasn't arrogant and overconfident, because that would be a lie, but I'll admit I'd have rather of had him on my side. The Red Wedding was an abomination and an unworthy death, just as much as his father's." Dropping his hands from her face, he continued in a much harsher tone, "However, he was a traitor and at times a stupid one at that. You still have family and I know plenty of suitors barely worth the title of human for you, so we'll try this again. Jeyne, what were the Blackfish' plans? Robb must have talked you, given you orders what to do should he fall in battle." Just to make sure the message was carried home he tried to imitate one of Cersei's expressions, when she was displeased in court, a strange threatening smile. Whether or not it worked, the girl seemed unnerved.

"He promised to find a way to win. He swore to roam all of Westeros if needs be, he would rally who ever would listen to him and if necessary he would turn up in King's Landing with an army, and a rightful heir." Jaime's ears perked, _it could goddamn well mean anything_ "Who would be the rightful heir? You? Stannis? The rumored Targaryen girl? Arya Stark's husband?" "Arya Stark? She's alive and married?" "I don't know if Robb's sister is alive but Cersei had Arya Stark married off. It doesn't matter- which heir for which Kingdom did he mean?" Jeyne pointedly looked north and a hint of a smirk formed, gradually turning to face him, all her bitterness and scorn embodied in her half-lidded stare, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Fuming he pulled her by the neck of cloak, "Do not play games with me Jeyne, I don't need a hand to kill you, a word will suffice." "Best not let Ser Ilyn take your tongue then, along with your manhood, if the rumours are to be true." Still the amusement in her eyes grew and anger started to boil in him, "Just as fucking conceited as your dead husband. Look where his overconfidence got him. Trust me I'll let the men do a lot worse than sew a dead wolf's head on your neck to get the information I need. It's war, men have needs, in war crimes are daily deeds, no one will blink twice if a drunkard overzealous Lannister-Bannerman happened to rape you over and over until you were bleeding and begging. Jeyne, I don't want to harm you I really don't. I'm trying to finish this here, spare lives, my son's included. The Blackfish will make sure that will not happen. Jeyne, as former-queen in the north, think of your would-be subjects. I will make you a worthy match, as fortunate as I can make it, but I need to know where bloody Brynden Tully went."

For a second he thought he saw a gleam of madness in her cold dead eyes, then they were lifeless and hollow again, her voice just as monotone, as if she had cut herself off from her surroundings. He'd seen men do it in battle but even then the change wasn't as pronounced. "Ser I would ask you to release me. I truly do not know, I can speculate, guess, but I cannot say exactly where he will be because I do not know. Robb and I were mostly otherwise indisposed, and when we talked he would whisper of Winterfell, his plans and dreams when the fighting was over, he urged me to be the queen the north needed, should he fall; to listen to Brynden and his other Bannermen; to flee, so I could once again take up arms for him; to love no other unless I chose to do so; and most importantly to be never less than a queen. Now if you let me leave and return to my grief, I would be much obliged."

Letting her take leave he shook his head, trying to dash the different emotions swirling in his mind. _Things used to be so much easier when it was just Cersei in my life _Nonetheless his gut instinct wouldn't shake, something was happening, the Blackfish still had a lot of life in him and the girl knew something, at least enough to give her a feeling of superiority over him. He might not have loved his father as he should have, but he still wished he was here._ He had all this planned out, he just didn't believe in us enough to enlighten us_, turning Honor towards the camp, he called out to one of the Hedgeknights to fetch him Lady Genna. _At least she might have a clue what he had planned_.

Just as he started to head across the camp in a steady trot, a horse came bolting over the horizon.

The rider was a bloody sight to behold, it was only as the horse drew within a few feet did he recognize him as Ser Dermot. _What in seven hells has happened?_ "Someone fetch a master" he barked to no-one in particular, "What happened? How many men has the Ser Brynden already gathered? Where are all those you left with?" "The Blackfish would be fine", spitting out a mouthful of blood, Jaime could only now really see his wounds. He had a large hole in his side and half his ear torn off, along with a few fingers, judging by the gory stumps, with most of his clothes torn it seemed impossible that he had managed to ride so far and still talk, "This was those damn beasts I told you of. We made rings of fire around our camp as you suggested, but it didn't stop the bloody monsters, they just charged through the flames, half mad with bloodlust." Spitting again the gash in his side started to spurt again, half falling out the saddle, Jaime did his best to catch him, but the man just slumped against him and nearly tore him down off Honor as well.

A few other men started to trot over the horizon as well, the horses not faring much better than the owners, some stumbling trying to bear their masters weight. Vyman came running up behind him along with a few lords on horseback. "Ser are we under attack?" "I don't know, alarm the guards and have them ready to strike should any beast come within arrow-range. Vyman save this man's life, I need him at least lucid." Turning around to face the growing crowd "Get the men's wounds seen to, save all you can. Ease the passing of the others. Lords with me, it seems we have more to discuss."

_Nearly all the wolves have been killed, so now they attack from beyond the grave with their sigil, if only I could call mine to the field of battle too._ Jaime couldn't help but laugh at the irony beneath his breath. Entering his room, he started to feel the chill that was settling and how the light was already beginning to fade. _The raven was late, winter will be here within a fortnight at this rate_ "Peck go fetch me some mulled wine and have the cooks bring the food for the other lords here, we will be holding council for much of the night I fear." "More talk and less action if you gather a council, if you ask me", the singer, which he kept forgetting was there, spoke up. "Tom o' Sevens I think you'll hear seven tunes playing tonight if you stay to entertain. That's the problem with councils, they make war a song and dance, and they just forget the blood they're waltzing in. How's your song 'Talking to the Fish' coming along?" "Swimmingly", the man replied with a twinkle in his eyes. "Yes well, maybe you can add to it, how we're trying to catch a certain black one, perhaps it's been singing too, seems to me too many men are dying without a war being fought if you ask me." "Oh I already came up with a verse for that.

_Oh and how the lion roared,_

_I'll catch me a fish_

_With just this broken claw!_

_As he got out his dish_

_Wolves and broken pheasant_

_All laid on his plate_

I haven't had any inspiration further than that, what do you think?" "I think the old lion isn't quite broken yet, still don't be singing that outside this room, not many have my sense of humour." _Wolves and broken pheasant all laid on my plate? If only _ "I never said old my lord, besides the lion still has its teeth and its wits perchance too." "Tom flattery only gets you a woman" "Oh I know that why do you think I'm called Tom o' Sevens? Seven in every village I pass, my lord"

Before Jaime could respond to his jape, Lord Piper and Lord Karyl Vance both entered. "My Lords, it would seem the council is about to begin, please be seated." In quick succession the other Lords arrived, along with Lady Genna. _Well at least she has some sense. _ No one said anything but plenty of glares were exchanged around the table. "Lords and Lady, I am sure that you have all heard of the events. The wolves, it would seem, are becoming a serious threat to our men. I sent Ser Dermot along with a hunting party for the Blackfish; you know too well how that turned out. To speak frankly, we need the damned beasts killed; they're murdering the men and morale. We need to take Lord Beric Dondarrion as well, and Strongboar has been sent to do that, but if he too is only going to get attacked then we may as well just not waste the men. The Hound needs to be put down too." "Lord Jaime you're forgetting Raventree, the fighting is still going on there. You are desperately needed there", Lord Karyl interrupted. "Well then there is only one thing for it, we have to leave Beric and Byrnden be.", Lady Genna answered in an entirely convinced tone. "Why?", Jaime asked with an air of complete confusion and exasperation, "The Blackfish will regroup and gather his force if we let him." "So let him. If the wolves don't take him, then he will lead us to Dondarrion. Keep Strongboar on him if you will, or some other restless fool. Take Raventree, destroy any chance of him gathering men from that force and show the King's Justice by slaying the Hound. Keep the small folk happy and give them no reason to join the Outlaws. Send a hunting party for the wolves, tell them anyone who kills a wolf can have the meat and fur. Jaime if you do this right you will have peace within a year and the belief in the King strengthened." _ And let the world bow down to father in a dress_.

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><p><strong>Please Review :) = Motivation! ^^<strong>


	4. 3 Chapter: The Kraken's Daughter

**Hi guys!**

**So finally here is chapter 3! Thanks to all who reviewed and commented! I am really really sorry it took so long RL has been problematic to say the least and let's just leave it at I had to entirely overhaul the whole chapter and this storyline because I was incapable of looking at the map -.- Chapter 4 will be up next Saturday (14.4.) latest. Promise. I hope you enjoy!**

**How awesome was the ep1 of s2 huh? Not sure about the Baelish scene but what is worse was I was sitting for neigh on 50 min only to see like 3 seconds of Gendry :D ! WHY did it take so long T.T :D loved the interior on Dragonstone!-ok no more peskering here we go!**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and I am in no way profiting from this FF. They all belong to George R.R. Martin, only the plot post- A Feast For Crows is mine. Some scenes from the HBO Series A Game Of Thrones may be referenced to, these also do not belong to me. (Trust me I wish they did ;D )**

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><p><strong>3. Chapter: The Kraken's Daughter<strong>

She hated it and loved it all at once. She loved being free of the bloodlusting fools determined to destroy her home, surely bringing down the wrath of all Highgarden if they kept their current pace. But this was land, firm earth beneath her feet with no ocean within a half a day's ride. No salt air, no seagulls, no crashing waves, just the cold mist. This was what she hated, the chains of land, that and not being the ironqueen she was born to be, but she couldn't have stayed. _Euron would have killed me, like he did my father_ it still turned her stomach in hate and dismay when she thought of the events at the Kingsmoot. _Trist was worth listening to, and nuncle._ However she had had to stand by and watch as all her hopes and dreams turn to ash. The moment that horn had been blown, the decision had been made.

No one except her had noticed how Damphair just slid away into the background as the men roared in euphoria and bloodlust, if she were to disappear would anyone care? She signaled to her first captain to stay as he saw her backing in to the crowd.

Stealing through the dark as they roared, her footsteps carried no sound, just her shadow running along beside her. Only when she heard quiet thuds echoing her own did she slow her pace. Glancing behind she could not make out any figure lurking or following. It did nothing to ease her though, she was on a hill, things that follow you don't just disappear. She continued down the slope running sure and soft footed as she kept her eyes on Damphair, he had reached the shore and had already begun striding into the sea.

It was insanity, going into the sea when a storm like something fierce was beginning to stir, _the Storm God has found his man too then_. She kept the faith but it wasn't until the moment that horn had blown had she felt something beyond her that cut down to her bone. _It was anything but human_. Even thinking about it sent a shiver down her spine. The men hadn't lied to her when they spoke of Crow's Eye's affinity for sorcery. As she came to the edge of the stony shore she called out to him, but he was too deep in his trance to hear her. She had no interest in going into the warring water, especially not with the dark clouds gathering in the alarming pace they were, but she had no time to pander to his delusions.

Rushing in after him the waves suddenly began to dance wildly, the wind started to rise, tearing the foam into the sky. She hadn't known a storm to grow so violent so quickly. "I hear you! I hear your anger! He will be struck down!", Aeron cried out. She hadn't noticed before just how much he believed to be in direct contact with the God until now and it frightened her. He had once been as fierce a warrior as he had been a gambler and womanizer, this was more than a shadow of that person. He was oblivious to the waves crashing in over his head, how the wind was tearing at his hair, the water whipping at his body with the fury of an executioner; he just stood there, his arms outstretched and face raised to the heavens. "It will be done!"

Asha finally managed to reach him, turning him around to face her, the howling of the gales drowned her words, so she just tore at him with all her might, trying futilely to drag him to shore before he was wrenched from her. After what seemed a lifetime of wasted effort, he started to follow her willingly, just in time as the ocean started to thrash and batter at them in earnest. The rain had started to pour down, lashing in their faces with the force of the wind behind it. The sky was as black as night and the hailing storm as cold as ice, behind her the waves were taller than men and higher than quite a few masts. It was the coming of winter storm but none of the stories prepared her for this.

Euron was still rambling to himself yet none the words he spoke could be heard as the lighting and thunder begun their merry dance overhead. Despite being as hard a captain as she knew, she couldn't remember one single storm that echoed the perilous nature of this one just beginning to awaken. Suddenly she felt her uncle's freezing hands clasp around her arms and turned her around to face him, "It has begun. The long winter is coming and we must be prepared." She tried to wrench herself free of his grip, their roles of a few seconds ago now reversed, "Uncle we must take shelter! This is madness!" "This is the wrath of the Drowned God, we shall be safe. He will only strike those fools." "Uncle, we must leave now." The spark of madness in his raging eyes seemed to quiet and he let her guide him back up the hill. The weather was making it impossible to see and making the ground treacherous too, they stumbled back up the hill, slipping and sliding, gathering many bruises in the process. They were shivering and shaking as they ascended, however time seemed to drag in the face of the unrelenting storm, which seemed to be worsening by the second, she thought she hear the flapping of cloth, just mere moments before nearly being torn to the ground by what seemed to be the remnants of a tent as it hurtled down the hill towards them.

The shock seemed to freeze her to the spot and would have been ripped away with the wreckage, hadn't her feet suddenly been taken away from under her. Slamming into the ground the mud did nothing to cushion the force of the blow. Grasping for her dirk, she tried to roll around in the muck to face her attacker. The storm was blinding though and made it impossible to barely make out Aeron lying next to her. Thinking that she had possibly been mistaken, that it had merely been the earth coming loose that wrenched her to the floor, she tried to stand again as a hand clasped around hers and hauled her up, glad that she hadn't relinquished her blade, she tried to stab at the person in front of her. _Crow Eye wasted no time_. Surprisingly though her assailant withstood her strike by deflecting it with his own dagger. Outmaneuvering her, he managed to twirl her around and firmly kept her in his arms, with her back to his chest and both her arms firmly pressed overlapping against her chest, disabling her without having disarmed her. She struggled in his grip but the muscular arms didn't budge. Instead she felt the tickle of a short kept beard against her ear as a deep voice shouted, trying to be heard over the thundering storm, still raging and tearing at them with gales and hail. "I wasn't sent, I have no intention of hurting you. We have to take cover though, come with me, I swear I won't hurt you or keep you restrained. Trust me. There's shelter a few minutes away, we must hurry. Another is coming!" Still fighting his hold she yelled back, "Why? You attacked me!" "I saved you! There's no time for this. Die in this storm, die by a blade or come with me." Releasing her and re-exposing her to the chill and lashing rain, he took a step back just as lighting struck, providing a moment of light to show his face. The only features she could make out in the blur were his striking grey-blue eyes.

Whatever she saw in those eyes clinched it, they were mesmerizing pools and she felt like she was drowning. "Where's Damphair?" she tried to vocalize despite the rawness in her throat. Whether he heard or not was irrelevant he was tugging at her arm and pointing to two shadows somewhere in front of them. It wasn't really a choice in this weather. Following him for what seemed to be hours but was in truth mere minutes, they suddenly had stopped and the man began clawing in the mud desperately seeking something. Then she saw what he was looking for, a leather loop. Tugging at it the best she could, a sodden wooden flap covered in grass exposed a deep dark hole, seemingly bottomless with what could only be described as roots as apparent ladder handles judging by the man's gesturing.

There was no way she was going down there. She started to shake her head and back away until she felt a heavy warm hand on her lower back pushing her forward not without a little force. She came closer to the bottomless pit, just the sight of it made her breathing erratic, the blackness seemed unending and so narrow she doubted anyone could fit in there. She tried to turn and run but slammed right into the chest of the unknown friend or foe. _He wants to kill me, _was all she could think over and over as he pressed her close to him and began lowering himself into the hole. She tried to kick with all her might but as she stared up into those grey-blue orbs again her thoughts were silenced. She felt a terrible pain in her mind, like someone was driving an iron hot blade through her head, the heat seemed to spread through her veins, it was all consuming and eating her alive, she tried to scream, the searing pain too unbearable, but no sound came out. She started to panic, her body was entirely aflame, like a thousand pokers stabbing at her, but her arms and legs were the worst. Like molten coals and heavier than they had ever felt before, they felt like they were being torn from her as her joints jarringly started to move of their own accord, her hands latching on to the roots of the tunnel wall, whilst her foot started to lower itself to the lower root.

So she began her descent in utter panic and tortuous pain, and after a few seconds of unwilling climbing the little light that had shone down the hole was blotted out as the latch was closed above her. Total darkness engulfed her and terror started to overcome the agony as her heart fluttered like a caged bird. Air seemed to escape her lungs and stars started to cloud her sight, her head was light and heavy and every sound seemed to tear at her ears but in slow motion, her grip loosened and then there was nothing.

Lights of warm orange and the most peculiar shades of green and blue fluttered before her eyes, before they gave way to the black, then the lights would appear again basking a seemingly small cave in their glow, but they never stayed too long. What could have been an eternity later she started deciphering the rustling sounds as labored and whispered speech, "You shouldn't have done that. It's forbidden! What would he say?" "She had to go, he was just behind us. I had no choice!" "There is always a choice you darn fool! What are you going to do?" Despite the voices growing louder she couldn't focus on them any longer and succumbed yet again to the drowning noises and dancing shadows.

Slowly the buzzing in her head seemed to recede as did the fire in her limbs, but something wasn't the same, they felt wrong, like they were someone else's. The voices became clear again and this time she could make out her Aeron's praying. Trying to sit up and open her eyes was much harder than it had ever been before, including the time she had flown from one side of the deck to the other in a storm, cracking a few ribs and breaking her arm in the process.

"She's awake", he spoke in his solemnest voice. Slowly opening her eyes, only to close them again due to the blinding light, "Blow out a candle", she croaked, her voice strained from apparent disuse.

Eventually peeking out, she started to take in her surroundings, they were still underground judging by the low muddy ceiling. Again her heart fastened but at least the room was large enough to stand in without having to bow slightly. She was in a cot and at the end an old woman with those same piercing grey-blue eyes stared at her. "Where am I?" "Safe", the elderly woman with lines too many to count muttered. Aeron snorted in disapproval, "If we were safe, we wouldn't be here.", a glance from the woman silenced him though. "How, how long?" unable to continue her sentence due to the dryness, " A few hours at most", was the response that came through the door as it jarred open.

The face was that of her attacker, "What do you want?" "Here," passing a jug of ale to her, "it's not poisoned. That is one of Euron's tricks, not ours. We tried to reach you before the moot, but this took longer than expected." , he stated glaring at Aeron and gesturing to the walls. In the light she could see he had rugged looks. Dark hair, almost black, slightly wavy and unkempt, a short kept beard and square jaw, a darker taint than was common to these islands, broad shoulders, large hands, and apparently he was well endowed too as her eyes wandered lower than intended. An unbidden smirk and cocked eyebrow appeared on his face, probably mirroring her own expression. _Not what I usually go for. _"Why did you want to meet me?" "As much as I want to get to know you, I actually came to talk to Damphair, Victarion and yourself." "Talk is overrated, doesn't sink into most brains, you saw that at the moot", she answered, her tone bordering on a growl towards the end.

"Well if we had been here on time there wouldn't have been a moot, but still my father wouldn't listen. Instead he brought unwanted attention to our family, nonetheless we are here now." "Your father is mad and you are too. The Kingsmoot was the will of the Drowned God." Aeron harshly replied. Something snapped in her at the sound of his self-righteous tone.

"Look what your Kingsmoot has done, nuncle! Euron is King and means to destroy the Iron Islands with his madness!" "The Drowned God has other plans for us, something is still hidden in the depths of the ocean. The tide will come in on Crow Eye's reign, this the Drowned God has whispered to me, he wants Victarion to lead us." "No nuncle, that is what you want! Were you drowned too long to know the difference between your thoughts and those of His? I should be Queen on the Seastone Chair by birth, you know I would rule justly." "You would live in sin, that would not befit the manner of a Queen. Victarion will rule, the Drowned God has decided it." "You are not the Drowned God!" "Hush child, he has plans for you too and we must both leave this night to do his bidding. The Kraken lies in the deep." "Leave? And let Euron tear us apart unchallenged?" "He will not be unchallenged, you saw the moot. He has brought evil with him and his work is not yet done. Gather all the ships you can, others can come later."

She turned to the other man in the room in incredulity, "Have you heard of this madness?" "Yes and he is right." "May the Drowned God take the two of you, I will play no part in this delusion!" "The Drowned God may take me, but I am not his. We of the Farwynds worship the oldest Gods, of the land and sea and air, of all that was, all that is and all that will be. The children lived on the Iron Islands once too, their blood is ours." She now knew why his eyes and those of the women looked familiar, "Your father is Lord Gylbert? It would seem insanity is either infectious or hereditary. Perchance both, but I'll not stay here and find out. There is enough madness here on this island."

"My Lady Asha, please hear what I have to say. Things are moving and events more important than any one Kingdom or even five Kings or Queens are unfolding. Many games are being played and there are games within games, but only a few players actually know what true game they are playing, even fewer still know all the true players. Euron is only a peasant on the larger scape of things. He's caught in a web and thinks he is the spider, but there is another spider, whose web he is growing evermore stuck in. In turn that spider is under the spell of another and in short there are more intricacies then you could ever fathom. I promise I will win you your game and win your prize you never knew you were seeking if you help me and mine play the game of life and death. My father may have rambled, but it's not all madness. Just like the bog devils as your uncle cares to call them, we too on the far off islands can suffer from what they call greensight. It's what makes our eyes change from grey to blue, father drifts between the many worlds, of could and should and if and would, too often now to tell any difference, not quite unlike Damphair", he added with a bemused smile, "Still, we have all seen it, and heard from a far off friend, whose identity I am not at liberty to divulge, due to the many players in the field at the moment, things are accelerating, not lastly because of Euron's foolish behavior. Darkness is coming, this storm is just the beginning. Things will rise soon and swallow, burn and tear. There is more truth in legend than you think."

"Will you stop talking in riddles and undertones? Who's behind Euron then? Pray tell me, I do so love to hear a good tale." "It's no tale, and I could name you names, but you'll never have heard of them." "If they are that powerful I would have heard of them." "Alas they're so powerful you'll never have heard of them not even a whispering. Trust me. Had you heard of me before you met me?" , he leaned back in a cocky manner raising his eyebrow yet again, whilst unashamedly appraising her shape with an intensity and smirk on his face, which under other circumstances, she would have loved to wipe off his face just to prove that she could. Now however she had to retort with a quick quip, "Well you musn't be very powerful then, either on the sea or in bed. I make sure I know my champions in both. " "Oh I know who champions you of late, still it didn't make much difference at the moot did it. Bed as many as you want but that's not your sole source of power, besides it's all a mummers farce. Euron would have been King come what may." Gritting her teeth she knew he was right but it irked her nonetheless.

Before she could make any kind of reply a stomach turning stench wafted through the door. "You want proof, here it is" , was all she heard before her stomach gave way. Once raising her head from the pail beside her bed, she turned to see the supposed proof. Before her though lay what could only be described as a pointed white rock that took up neigh the entire room. Upon closer inspection she saw the rock wasn't a rock _It couldn't be_ "It's not…" "Yes it is. It is a Leviathan tooth, the beast near killed an entire fleet. It was only a pup though, it was not near as large as the legends suggest. " "Do you take me for a fool? You had a craftsman shape this and stuck some rotting seal flesh on the end." "I am no fool, feel the fang. You can see the serrated edges but you can't feel the warmth it holds" "I'm sure you have some very capable craftsmen, but have them build some weapons instead of this trickery."

Aeron who had previously remained suspiciously quiet during the conversation, turned to her, "No child. This is neither magic nor design. It is real. The beasts of old awaken in the depths. We must leave." Pursing her lips together she simply sat and stared. "Child even if you do not believe him now we must flee Euron. Much has still to be done. The Drowned God demands we leave this night, we must both follow other currents but His course is clear." "Lady Asha your Uncle speaks truth, either way, there is only one direction you can sail." "Tonight, in this storm?", she could only splutter faced with their certainty. "We'll be lucky to survive; no one would dare risk following us. As you say, it's madness", the man who still remained unnamed answered with a grin.

What had happened after that was much a blur, she remember arguing a little longer but she was defeated and knew it. The Farwynds had burrows littered across the island, she never saw many people just the heir, the old woman and a few others. They managed to escort her to her ship and men without much trouble, once they left the burrows though the weather seemed unimaginable. If possible it had worsened over the few hours she had been underground. Despite the initial reaction from her crew members, she had managed to convince them to set sail. Two of her men remained behind to spread the word that if anyone sought to escape Crow's Eye's rule they should contact them or a Farwynd. Apparently the entire clan knew of their plans and where they were heading, still none of them saw it fit to tell her where they were going and how they were to remain in contact with those left behind, they just stared at her with their strange cold blue eyes and looked away again, as if she had never asked them at all.

Despite the lack of visibility and fierceness of the storm none of her men backed down and she was pleased to see that Tristan, Qarl and Ser Harras had all agreed to come with most of their respective men and ships as well. Tristan most likely agreed with the intention of wooing her, Ser Harras more out of the fear of being killed for showing his support for her claim and Qarl, _well he warmed my bed for quite some time_.

They fled with a number of five ships including those of the Farwynds, but only four survived the sea and its treacherous conditions and the Drowned God claimed a few others by tearing them from the decks. It was only when they had made a safe harbour did she notice that Damphair was missing, fearing the worst she had franticly asked others on the ships whether they had seen him. None had seen him step upon any of the ships.

She did remember the look on the Farwynd heir's face however, with clear distinction. Those expressive eyes clouded over in guilt and resignation, the look as if he were trying to not reveal anything, the finality of the words he spoke with the clear tone, that he was not to be pressed further on the issue, "He is elsewhere, his task is not yours.", as he then turned away without a second glance.

It had been months since landing at Saltspear and they had heard nothing of Euron, but they must have had many days' worth of sailing ahead of them, as the storm had only grown weaker a week or so after they had set foot in the Neck. Nonetheless it made her uneasy and if he didn't get them soon, the Bog devils would.

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><p><strong>Remember Reviews = Motivation ;)<strong>


	5. 4 Chapter: Gendry

**Hi guys!**

**So finally here is chapter 4! Thanks to all who added me to their favourites - I really appreciate it but I would still love a review ;D! I enjoyed writing this chapter the most so far, felt the most comfortable with it and think it might be the best one sofar, even though I'm relatively happy with chapter 3. I know he's not a main character (yet :D) but I don't think he's irrelevant either so I'm boosting him up :) hope you like what I've done with him^^ Chapter 5 will be up on Saturday the 12.5. latest. I know it sounds rediculously far away and it is, I am aiming for latest the 28th but I don't know if I can really keep it due to the aforementionend RL issues, therefore 12.5. is a promise. Reviews will help speed the process up ^^ I hope you enjoy!**

**Adored Episode 2 even if it was a bit fast fowarded on the Arya -Gendry revelation ;D - You shouldn't insult people who are bigger than you - but then I couldn't insult anyone - was a perfect addition, stealing that line if there is ever a situation and I have to agree Hotpie was like Hotpie :D - Joe Dempsie plays Gendry brilliantly :)))))**

**Ok onwards and upwards (I hope)**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters and I am in no way profiting from this FF. They all belong to George R.R. Martin, only the plot post- A Feast For Crows is mine. Some scenes from the HBO Series A Game Of Thrones may be referenced to, these also do not belong to me. (Trust me I wish they did ;D - I really really wish they did T.T )**

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><p><strong>4. Chapter: Gendry<strong>

_Stupid wench_, it didn't matter whether she lived or died, she was just another lion-loving woman, who would it bother, some father far away, _shouldn't have let her play knight if he cared_. Then again, she wasn't the fairest; maybe that's what he wanted, for her to get herself killed, so he could name a chosen heir.

Still even thinking it didn't really change how he felt about it, it bothered him, even if it didn't stir anyone else. He'd watched he return to health despite the deep ugly hole in her cheek, even watched her through her delirium, put up with her stupid pleas and calls, thinking he was someone else just so she could be hanged?

He'd lost count the amount of people they had sentenced, lords; ladies; hedgeknights; little lordlings; peasant women; farmers; camp followers; children; it didn't matter eventually, what they had done, be they lions or part of the Red Wedding, or even only suspected to be so. They all looked the same when they were dead, hanging and turning, revolving on their ropes. The camp spent more on rope than food, vengeance was all that satiated Lady Stoneheart, _damn everyone else's needs._

For a while he hadn't been much different, wanting to kill everyone whose fault it was, in his mind, for why the situation was the way it was. Anger just kept on smoldering and burning in his chest and if he stopped too long to think about it, it almost consumed him alive. Only in the forge did he find any resemblance of peace, he became a part of the flames and blistering heat. The fire was a part of him and though beating steel until his arm was numb, killing lions and monsters traveling the roads, had calmed the warring storm in him after Lady Stoneheart had arrived, it didn't quench it by any means and he had felt more useful before. When Thoros, Lem, Lord Beric and he had searched, held trials, he had at least felt a little useful, even if it had only fueled his pain and rage.

But then Lord Beric decided he had had enough. He saw a huge wolf in the woods and followed it to the river. There he gave the breath to a corpse, long dead, all because he thought it was meant to be, just because Lord Beric had had enough, his whole world had to change again.

They couldn't believe it when she began to breathe again, _it was wrong_, the Lightning Lord might have survived whenever he was given the breath, but Catelyn Stark had been dead for so long _ the dead are rising. _Thoros and his God had once appealed to him in some manners but a God that would bring back the dead just to murder it was sorcery _and evil._

Stoneheart was a good name, the Hangwoman even better, but she did not deserve the title, mother of Arya anymore. _Arya, she'd have said this is stupid, and that I was stupid for not saying anything_. He hated thinking of her, she just ran away because she didn't want to believe the truth, _too bloody proud and then that bastard stole her._ He didn't want to believe any of the stories, the dark whisperings the people hiding in Hollow Hill_ my lands_, he thought in dark amusement, were bringing with them. He knew Rorge had worn the Hound's helm, but was it he or Clegane they referred to, when they spoke in terror of the dark deeds in the saltpans.

Lately though he had begun to ask himself, whether they were any better? They murdered. Catelyn killed in cold blood, not even in a passion or madness, just cold and calculated fury.

Then there was the wench; that scream she gave as Biter began to eat her alive _Arya's part to blame for that too_, it haunted him. The deep ugly scar it had left, it was a miracle she had survived _why not just let her die? Why waste our supplies just to murder her?_ Her insistent whining, it really irked him when she started calling him Renly, and in such a desperate tone, her constant "Lord" seemed to mock him and then he finally understood why it bothered Arya when he said, "M'lady". _I'm no heroic knight, Ser Gendry Waters of Hollow Hill, why did I even bother? I knew, I bloody well knew and still… I'll never even be a master __armourer__._

His own forge was all he had ever wanted, for such a long time and then his master had sent him away, that had hurt, his mother had died when he was young, the old man was the closest thing he'd had to a father. _Just as poxy good as my real father_. He hadn't ever really thought of his real father and he had never asked, he didn't want to know, besides it wasn't like he was the only bastard in King's Landing.

Slowly the inn came into view, Willow only had to look at his face to know not to talk to him. Putting his pony into the stables he saw one of the boys hiding in a corner. "What are you doing in here? Where's Jon? It's his turn to clean the stables" "He's, he's, Jon isn't here Ser." "I can see that, where is he?" "Playing probably…", the boy came out of his corner. Despite all the muck and dirt he was covered in, Gendry couldn't help but see the deep gash on the boy's forehead and the dried blood around it. _No one's looking after them, they're just turning into brutes, Lem's "punishment" isn't any better_.

Glowering darker than usual, he bent down on one knee, beckoning the boy closer, after looking at his wound he asked in a rough voice, "Who did this?" "No one I tripped." "Don't lie, did Jon do this?" "No", the small lad sniffed. "He did, didn't he? That's why you're here doing the stables" "No Ser Gendry, please don't be angry, I like the ponies and it's warm in here, I like doing the stables. Jon didn't do nothin', he didn't please, please Gen, please he's so horrible when he's not playing or in the kitchen, he didn't do it. I fell"

The boy was near tears by the time he had finished, and had tried to hug Gendry, before he abruptly stood up, leaving the youngster shocked and upset. He didn't want the younglings becoming attached to him, they needed to be protected, he could die doing that, they had to grow up faster, war was still around them and winter was already coming. Many of them, maybe even he himself considering the circumstances, wouldn't make it. _This has to stop_, anger began to unfurl in his chest, the tendrils enflaming and burning through his veins. Storming over to the kitchen, he took the boy by the hand, all but dragging him along too. This argument was going to be different, because it had to be.

"Willow! Get Jon, look at Can!" Shoving the boy by the ruff of his neck, he put him in front of the young girl, "Look at him. He's all beaten up, again. We can't keep bandaging them all up all the time." "Don't shout at me Gendry Waters. What do you expect me to do? Jeyne's here half as oft as not and you keep buggering off all the time." "Why Willow? So you lot can stay alive, there's no point though if they're just going to kill each other. Now where's Jon?" "How am I supposed to know, I'm busy as you can see, now get out my kitchen if you want fed.", with that she tried to hurry him out by thwacking him with her wooden spoon, but he wasn't having any of it. "Willow, I mean it. Where the blazes is Jon? Why are you just letting them run wild?" "I'm only ten, do you think they listen?" Growling and his mood darkening, she uttered the one phrase that she shouldn't have, "I'm not Arya, now get out." "Trust me I know you're bloody well not Arya, she wouldn't let the little ones run riot."

Unfortunately the Jon in question, happened to run into his leg, just at that moment. "You", grabbing the youngster by the scruff, he held him tight, refusing to relinquish his grasp, despite the boy's squirming. "You've been hitting Can again, what did I tell you? Do you want a cuff round the ear? Or should I just hit you like you hit Can." The boy avoided his glower by staring at his feet, "He fell I didn't hit 'im." That earned him a cuff and it wasn't a light one either. "You have to do your part. We all do. So when I tell you to do the stables, do it." The boy just shouted at him as he tried to escape, "What do you do? You leave us. You and Jeyne and Lem, even Thoros. That or you're always in your stupid forge. I hate you. You lied. You said we were safe, but Biter came and you killed him. You made everything bad! There's always blood everywhere." Gendry knelt down and forced the boy's arms by his sides, "I killed him, exactly. He didn't hurt you, think about that woman he did hurt, huh? We all leave to bring back food, and to make the area safe. We need clean stables, so the horses don't get sick, so we can get food. I'm in the forge because that's my job too, to make things we need. We all have jobs to do, Can had a different job to do. Now we have to protect each other." Jon just looked up at him with blank eyes_ I wasn't made to do this. _His anger hadn't subsided but he knew it wasn't Jon's fault or even Willow's. _It's Stoneheart's fault_.

He went back to the forge and started hammering out the sword again, he had almost finished it and it wouldn't be finished soon enough. He looked at the shield he had made before but it bore no sigil, no paint, no embossing. There was not enough time and he didn't even know what to put on it, he had had an idea when he first thought of it, but that was before everything had changed.

Still beating the blade his thoughts started to stray to areas they shouldn't. He remembered the feeling of splattered blood across his face, warm and sticky, the sight of the body with the spear through his neck. It hadn't been his first kill, but it had been the first he really had had time to think about, before, during and after. The resistance the spear had felt and then the sound it had made, the force of the blow reverberating through his arm, the finality of it. There had been a life in his hands and then it was gone. It made him shiver but nightmares were his constant companions now.

Even now he realized how he lost himself to movements and rhythms, a swing of a hammer or the thrust of a spear, they were all the same to him. Even the blows with the practice blade he had made, from wood and lead, he did in the dead of night when he couldn't sleep. It was the only comfort he felt, the constant aching of his muscles, the thoughtlessness of the actions. It helped burn away everything he didn't want to confront, _Stoneheart; Lem; Thoros; the Tickler; Yoren; Arya; me_.

Plunging the sword into the bucket of water, it began to hiss and steam, drawing him back to the cold harsh reality. A small sense of pride began to blossom, _my first sword_, it wasn't nearly as fine master Mott's work, _but not half-bad either_. It would serve for the purpose he had in mind. A small grin began to spread in spite of himself. It still had to cool, but he withdrew the scabbard he had hidden, and packed together the few treasured possessions he had. He couldn't leave yet, he knew that, especially with no one to look after the little ones, but he would be ready when the time came. For the mean time he had something else to deal with.

The fire that had raged at the sight of Can hadn't died, dwindled yes, but just as much as his nightmares, anger never left him now. Striding over to the stables, he slung his hammer into his belt, _This will be the end of it_; conviction started to seed itself into an inevitable truth in his mind. He took his pony, the only one left, a horse would have been better, but there weren't many of them left now, most were being ridden but a few others had fallen victim to the growing hunger of the children. The Lions had burnt almost everything in the immediate vicinity. _There's nothing left; not here, not in the woods, this stupid war is the reason; the lords and ladies play with our lives like drunken men play with knives and dice._ He knew they weren't all the same; Arya and the twit Ned had shown him that, he didn't like Ned at all but in some ways he wasn't that bad.

_They all think they can have whatever they bloody well want though_, he remember the coy giggles of daughters of certain lords in King's Landing, eyeing him as if he were some possession to be bought for the right price, or won in a competition between the lot of them. Saddling the pony and ridding him in a manner that probably would have made some braver people laugh, he rode as fast as he dared to the cave. He hadn't ever learnt to ride and although he was a lot better than when they first started out, it still looked ungainly when he galloped. Like everything else though he was practicing it, as often as he could. He had a goal and he would eventually achieve it. Even if meant breaking his own principles. He was loathe to part with the children, he knew just how much danger lurked around here now, but this wasn't what he had agreed to, when he declared himself to Lord Beric.

Despite the constant pounding of the hooves beneath his feet, he doubted he'd arrive on time. His frown deepened, the countryside lay out before him but his destination just seemed constantly over the horizon. After what seemed like hours ridding, the river came into view. He had only turned around from it half a day ago, but this time he meant to cross, if he had any luck Thoros would still have her.

Entering the caves, still frightened the animals, but just like the humans living in them, it was living in fear or dying all together. Safe to say most chose life. One of the few refuges took the reins from him, "What are you doing here Ser?" Instead of replying he gruffly asked for the priest's whereabouts. "The trial's begun Ser, they're all down in Judgment Cave." "Trial, don't make me laugh." he muttered under his breath.

Gendry didn't even bother stepping down from the saddle instead he retook the reins and rode as fast as he could around to the other exit, he knew they would hang her for some treason or another. They came into view as did the dawn, standing beneath the crooked willow. Lem had donned the accursed helm, assuming that character once again, _he's no longer Lem;_ he distractedly thought as he rode closer, the noose was already around her neck, he could make out she was trying to talk to her gaoler _no use there_. Suddenly the boy was twitching in the air and she screamed, "Sword". Still Lem was laughing like a madman.

"Let her down!", Gendry shouted out to him. "Bugger that!" "In R'hollor's name, Lem, release her!" Her body sacked to the ground in a loud thud, the boy was barely moving now, Gendry, leaped off and slammed into the other man, not taking note of who it was, he heard the lad fall to the ground, but unlike Brienne he made no noise. _No, he's just boy_ He knew there wasn't much between them in age, but the few times he had spoken to him he seemed so much younger and entirely forlorn. Running across to the boy, he put his ear to the boy's mouth, he wasn't breathing. In a blind panic he tried to imitate Thoros, he'd seen him do it to Lady Stoneheart_ it has to work_, he tried to breathe the life back into him, he did again and again, as the woman gasped for air and Lem just continued laughing, slamming his fist into the lad's chest out of pure desperation, a glint of hope sprang to life, as he felt the boy's heart leap, breathing into him again, the boy then resumed breathing of his own accord.

Gendry let out a sigh of relief as he leaned back for a second, then he felt a hand yank him up at the back of his neck. Throwing him against the tree, Lem started to bark at him, "Who do you think you are runt? To give me commands? Taken a fancy to her? Like her blonde hair? Reminds you of your whore of a mother? I thought," he didn't get to finish his sentence as Gendry slammed his fist into the Hound's face. He felt something give way, he'd probably broken his nose again, judging by the blood on the back of his hand, he felt Lem let go of him. Quickly escaping his grasp, he turned around to see Jack-be-Lucky. "You heard her, cry 'sword'! You should have stopped him!" "Could've meant anything, why should've I stopped him? My Lady said 'hang them', so we were." "You bloody well knew what sword meant, I know what sword means!" "The runt bust my nose!", Lem finally managed to get out. "Yeah well it's an improvement" "Him and that blasted girl, I'll have'm Jack I swear!", stumbling towards Gendry, Jack stepped between them and put his hand on the aggressor's chest, "Enough of that come on, the lad's right. My Lady will want to see the bitch again, besides we can always hang her again." "And what about the Lion?" Only pausing a second to look at the limp body on the floor, "That's another matter. She best see to that too."

Stalking over to Brienne Lem ignored her panting as he grabbed her by her hair and stormed off after Jack as he barged into Gendry, growling in his ear "This isn't the end of this. Best not sleep light." He knew what he had done was foolish in many ways, but as he saw the blood slowly return to Pod's face, he couldn't help but feel he'd done at least something right these past few months.

Slinging the youth over his shoulder he made his way back into the cave, he could have carried him, but if things went bad, he wanted to be able to reach his hammer. As he began his descent into the dark he turned around once more to look into the bleak but clear dawn, whistling to his pony to follow, he turned back around to face more than just the Hangwoman.

The three of them didn't exchange a single word, only Brienne turned around with frightened and guilty looking eyes, a silent question escaping them as they sought his. Frowning he gave a slight nod, but also rested his hand on his hammer. _I better not end up dead, because of her. I managed to survive the Tickler and Harrenhal only to be killed by the wolf's mother._ _Lem'll want his say too._ Maybe it would have been better to let the stupid wench die.

The darkness became all-consuming and he knew they were half way there, unrest and something just as disturbing started tying knots in his stomach. _Things have got to change._ Repeating the words over and over, he grew closer to a long outstanding confrontation step by step, _As hard as steel I'll have to be_ the picture of his newly finished sword burned into the forefront of his mind and he couldn't help but wonder whether this was a stupid move or not.

As the light of the fire and bluish smoke rose to greet him, he just had to look at the giant woman and think of the boy over his shoulder to harden his conviction. The faces started flashing before his eyes, the boys; the ladies; the terror was always the same. The scene of countless bodies dancing in the air, held up only by their nooses. The wind brushing against the corpses carrying their whispers of accusations in his ears, sometimes they were just cries of pain; anguish; fear; desperation, but he could always hear the voices. _It has to change._

Drawing near to Judgment Cave he could hear the faint voice of Thoros, "Was it truly necessary? To kill her? My Lady, we could have ransomed her or even used her to lure the Kingslayer. She bore the royal seal." The rasping, which was Lady Catelyn's voice, rang out and echoed off the walls, "No my Lady, I did not mean to suggest.", interrupted yet again by the cold sounds, he began to stutter, "My Lady I, I would do no such thing. We were a Brotherhood, now we serve you, willingly. I only meant to ask, to ask, what our purpose is?" This time the voice resonated so loud, that even Gendry could make out the meaning of the distorted word, "Revenge".

Lem had entered the mouth of the inner cave, "Well the lion-whore isn't dead, you can thank the interfering little shit for it." The crowd drew round to gaze upon the entering men. Thoros looked over to him with an indecipherable expression on his face. "She cried 'sword'" Gendry gave as a response, his voice gruff but avoiding the glares he could feel. "I ordered them to be hanged." Lady Stoneheart rasped with cold derision in her icy stare. "She said she would do as you commanded. Why kill her?" "She betrayed me", was all the long drawn answer he was given.

He felt his blood begin to boil, "Who hasn't betrayed you? It's war. Your son betrayed the king. War is betrayal." He shouted, forgetting where he was. "How dare you, Jack seize him." Feeling the back of his knees being kicked in, he buckled to the ground, managing to keep Podrick form hitting the ground. "The North remembers. The Freys will bleed and the Lannisters will burn, until they're all dead. I will see their corpses rot and their house fade into oblivion. Joffrey was not the rightful King."

Hands were now pushing him down the ground, the boy was taken from him, as Jack struggled to keep the blacksmith's hands behind his back. "And what about us? Where do we fit in this game? People are dying everywhere. Who killed who? The Lannisters will die, and so will the Freys, but what of their Bannermen? What about the people protecting their homes from **wolves** and **lions**?" Lady Stoneheart just kept staring at him, he felt himself blush and lowered his gaze. "I could have your head in a noose too", was the sole reply he was given.

"My Lady, I will serve you, as faithfully as I always have. Before you even knew, I was serving you and yours. Please though, the woman will be punished; she cares for the Kingslayer, killing him will be punishment enough. Blame can kill just as well as rope." With one last hateful glance, she stood up and turned away from the crowd, ere she left completely Lem called out once more, "And what of the boy? Will he live as a squire, or have the death of a lion?" Without even turning around she whispered, "Death, by Ser Gendry's hand, or you can have his head too"

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><p>DA-DA-DA-DAAAAAAAH *evil cackle* Please review I'll bake Sigilshaped cookies for you all :D (Chartesuian's tesla moustache cookies -inspired) and I'll update faster :D<p> 


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